Chapter 28
Karl sat on the sofa, lazily gesturing with his hand. He was a real piece of work. He summoned us here to ask for help, yet had the nerve to act so arrogantly. For a brief moment, I felt a strong urge to snap his neck right then and there.
After all, this room was sealed off. Karl was all alone, and the only witnesses were Altonen and my comrades. Just as I was seriously contemplating this, Altonen sat down and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” saving Karl’s life. His luck was disgustingly good.
Karl smiled.
“Do you really not know? I want to talk to Hades, not deal with a scarecrow.”
“What…?”
Altonen’s expression darkened with indignation. For a moment, I considered acting on that earlier impulse, but then I silently chuckled. Karl’s intentions were becoming obvious. The man was looking for an alliance.
So, he’s been quite anxious lately, huh…
I decided to sit back and watch what nonsense he’d spout. It wouldn’t hurt to hear what kind of deal he had in mind for a loan shark like Guiger. After all, there was no reason for me to rush.
As Karl’s bold words were met with silence, he began to fidget, awkwardly puffing on his cigar. Just from seeing him squirm, I could tell he was small-minded. I gave him a score, figuring he was maybe two or three steps above Sideburns at best.
“This is amusing. Did you really call me here just to warn me I’m some puppet dancing on Guiger’s strings? I’m disappointed. To think you consider me a fool who’s controlled by mere advisors. You should know better after that whole Irina incident. In this world, the slightest bit of brilliance attracts all kinds of rumors and schemes.”
He was a useful puppet, after all. At the mention of Irina, Karl’s face froze. Altonen casually lit a cigarette.
“Still, hearing it from you is refreshing. The fact that such rumors exist could mean my leadership isn’t as solid as it should be. So, anything else to add?”
Who cares if this is just theater? Hurry up and say what you really want. Altonen was indirectly prompting Karl to get to the point, and Karl, with a cough, finally did. Sweat began to bead on his temple.
“Well… it’s nothing big, really. I just want to clear up any misunderstanding that I’ve aligned myself with the Lotus faction. It seems my engagement to Ms. Ovaska has given you the wrong impression, but I assure you, I’m still your friend and supporter.”
“That’s surprising.”
“Believe me. As I’ve said repeatedly, I have no interest in cozying up to the current Lotus Pusher. He’s not someone I’d want to rely on.”
“But you were born into the civil nobility. Yet you don’t want to join Lotus? Why? Are you planning to build your own faction?”
The conversation was finally getting to the crux.
“Well, if I were, do you think you’d just sit back and let it happen? It’s good you brought up lineage. In the civil faction, the hierarchy is so strict that young people get ostracized if they even try to spread their wings. But in the martial faction, skill is what matters most, not rank. I know where the real future lies.”
“Oh? And where’s that?”
“Aren’t you tired of it all? The centuries-old rivalry between the civil and martial factions? Why don’t we join forces and create a more comfortable world? To be frank, I dread the thought of my sister being tormented by the future queen the martial faction will establish. You wouldn’t understand how hard it is for a woman in love with a married man.”
“Once things are settled with the king, Irina can marry any decent man she wants.”
“If you and I work together, there won’t be any need for her to break things off with the king. I want to see my sister love freely, and that’s why I’m making this bold proposal. We’re still young.”
Altonen’s expression changed. Even I was stunned by how Karl had turned the suggestion of separating Irina from the king into something like this.
Altonen’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t gamble on risky cards.”
“Haha, of course. That’s why I’ve prepared this.”
Karl pulled out a small case from his coat and opened it, revealing a single CD.
“Take a look at this and then decide. Anyway, I’ve taken up enough of your time, so I’ll be going now.”
Karl jumped to his feet. Altonen reluctantly accepted the case with a displeased look. As they stepped out of the room, the two resumed their chat as if nothing had happened.
Following them, I began piecing things together. Karl’s intentions were clear. He wanted to make his sister the queen. His plan was to oust the Pusher, elevate Altonen to the top of Japonica, and place himself in power over Lotus. They’d share the glory of ruling together.
What an absurd man. I’d never seen anyone so greedy. The conclusion was obvious: Karl was either a master gambler or a complete idiot.
Naturally, it was the latter.
I could bet a hundred million talantens on that without hesitation. Karl had flip-flopped countless times already, and he’d betray us again if it suited him. Betrayal is the ultimate vice that undermines power.
More than anything, Karl was making a grave mistake. A king’s mistress is finished once she loses his favor. For us, installing a queen from the martial faction would be the most profitable move.
As soon as the party ended, we returned to headquarters and held a division meeting. The first thing we did was play the CD. It was a 15-minute video of Karl, holding Ms. Ovaska’s hand, nervously proclaiming that he wanted to ally with Japonica. It was practically an oath of loyalty.
The scene was so embarrassingly cringeworthy that even Four Messara, the shameless man that he was, felt embarrassed for the first time in his life. The division heads scratched their chins awkwardly, wondering if Karl was pulling some elaborate scheme with the Pusher.
Just then, my phone rang. It was my direct subordinate.
―Turn on the public news channel right now.
We switched on the news. There was an emergency press conference. Karl, tears streaming down his face, was reading a statement. The gist of it was that Irina was pregnant with the king’s child, and he was appealing for the royal family to break with tradition and grant her proper rights.
That night, the king ordered his chamberlain to resume royal parties starting tomorrow. The chamberlain reportedly said the king’s face was stretched into a wide grin.
This was all so infuriating.
The next day, the morning paper’s headline was about the critical condition of the Pusher. He had become completely paralyzed, an accident that occurred while he was under general anesthesia for plastic surgery. The timing was too coincidental to be considered just an accident, but the nurse we had on our side insisted it was purely a medical mishap.
― The Lotus is so cautious, he wouldn’t even drink a sip of water unless it was brought by his wife or daughter. There was no chance for anyone to use poison.
That evening, I attended the royal party. I witnessed Karl being swarmed by various people—idle club members, Pusher faction figures, and a mix of tattooed aristocrats—all fawning over him, rubbing their hands together. Meanwhile, other tattooed nobles, mostly hardcore Pusher supporters and younger middle-ranked factions, were sitting quietly in the corners, sipping their drinks in solitude.
Despite all the fawning, Karl stayed close to Altonen, chatting diligently with him. The next morning, a large gift box arrived for me at work. It was from Ophelia.
It was a Saturday afternoon. I was heading to the psychiatric hospital with the painting Karl had forced on me as a bribe—the one his deceased wife had committed suicide over—stuffed into the car trunk. The traffic was terrible, as usual. The winter rains had just ended, and now snow was falling heavily.
On the way, I bought a newspaper and skimmed through it. A photo of Altonen and Karl clapping hands at a subway opening ceremony filled the front page. Behind them, a row of grotesque monster masks lined up as usual.
I felt like a crumpled mess of trash. Lighting a cigarette, I continued reading the article. The last sentence—whoever wrote it—was truly infuriating:
“The Guiger division heads silently continued their diligent guard, as if blessing the friendly relationship between the two great figures.”
That damn Pusher. Out of all times, he had to go and get paralyzed during plastic surgery, likely to be remembered in the kingdom’s history as the most idiotic Lotus ever.
I cursed the Pusher endlessly. Lately, the hottest topic in the political world was the alliance between the tattooed and non-tattooed factions. The prevalent belief was that Karl would form an alliance with Guiger, now that the Pusher was incapacitated and Karl was swiftly rising in power.
Because of this, calls from Representative Fontane, who had been pestering us multiple times a day, abruptly stopped. We even received some ridiculous intel recently—apparently, Representative Fontane had gathered his journalist friends to tell them to go hard after Snake and Guiger. What a nightmare.
Reconciliation between the tattooed and non-tattooed factions? National stability? What a joke. I smirked.
They’d been clawing at each other since the 19th century, and now the longstanding conflict was supposed to be resolved by some sadistic villain and a third-rate pianist? Ridiculous. My colleagues and I had long since made up our minds. Karl’s future held only two options: a violent death or complete humiliation. If we couldn’t find an opening to exploit his “unnatural love,” we’d simply have him assassinated. His downfall was a matter of time.
Let him enjoy his little moment.
I chuckled and crumpled up the newspaper, throwing it out the window. Either way, today was the weekend. I was determined to forget about work and enjoy the day with Ray. After an hour of battling the traffic, I finally arrived at the hospital. This week, the treatment program included rabbit care and plant cultivation, so Ray spent most of his time in the hospital’s greenhouse.
I opened the door and entered the greenhouse. Under the glass roof, continuously covered by white snow, a vast field of colorful flowers spread out like a painting. In the rabbit enclosure, I saw Ray feeding the rabbits with therapist Louise. His pale face stood out even from a distance.
I paused to admire Ray. He looked magnificent. His amber hair, pinned back naturally with a jeweled clip, paired with his classic long coat, knitted scarf, and gloves with dangling tassels—it was all perfectly coordinated. It was clear this was the handiwork of Four Messara, the master of style. Of course, the clothes and accessories shone even brighter thanks to the person wearing them.
But I tilted my head.
Something didn’t add up.
During a consultation with the doctor, I had learned of another one of Ray’s “hidden secrets.” Surprisingly, Ray harbored extreme inferiority about his appearance.
― It’s more than just inferiority—it’s almost a delusion. He constantly questioned if he was hideously ugly, which is why he avoided people’s gaze and wore winter clothes even in spring.
I couldn’t believe it when the doctor explained. Ray, of all people, insecure about his looks? Thinking he was as ugly as a monster?
There were only two possible explanations. Either Ray had a vision problem, or he had no conscience. I leaned toward the latter.
Despite his naive nature, his appearance was undeniably beautiful. His flawless cream-colored skin, shining blonde hair, and delicate features made him the very image of a Raphael-esque beauty. Apart from his occasionally gloomy expression, there was nothing to criticize. Someone who saw that face every day and thought they were ugly was clearly lacking a conscience.
…
Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. Ray’s words from before echoed in my ears.
“I’m glad there’s no mirror. I used to like looking in mirrors, but now I’m glad there’s none.”
Could it be…?
I was starting to piece things together. It was a terrifying thought I didn’t even want to imagine. What if the face Ray saw in the mirror was that of the tortured, disfigured Snow Queen?
A sharp jolt ran through me, an indescribable sensation flooding my body, as if a ghostly hand had risen from the ground and grabbed my ankle.
I quickly shook my head. I couldn’t let myself get lost in such thoughts. The face Ray saw in the mirror was nothing but an illusion born from his hallucinations. I decided I would discuss Ray’s hallucinations with the doctor during his next visit and work out a plan to address them.
“Messara? When did you get here?”
Ray waved at me. I quickly smiled and walked over to the enclosure.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
“Now that you mention it, you are a bit late. I was so busy playing with Samwol that I lost track of time.”
“Samwol? Haha, is that the rabbit’s name? Did you name him yourself?”
“Yes, Samwol. I got it from
Alice in Wonderland
, the March Hare.”
“Interesting. Does Samwol also call you Mary Ann and demand that you fetch his gloves and fan?”
“Pretty close.”
Ray replied while feeding the rabbit.
“He’s so fierce, he treats me completely like a servant. Look, even now, he’s trying to bite me just for reaching out. But he’s cute. I guess this is why people keep pets.”
“Hmm. Animals are always cute.”
I nodded. I thought about getting Ray a puppy. Why hadn’t I thought of this earlier? Ray spent a lot of time alone.
“You both seem to like
Alice in Wonderland
,” Louise said, handing me a clover for the rabbit. I tossed it toward the rabbit.
“Well, it’s a famous novel, so I know it as common knowledge.”
“There are a lot of people who don’t read it just because it’s famous. Many don’t know that Alice’s model, for instance, was a young girl whom Lewis Carroll adored.”
“I’ve never heard that. Sounds like Lewis Carroll might’ve been like an old lady I know from next door. She treats me like a child too.”
“Oh my, ho ho! Lewis Carroll was a man. You mistook him for a woman because of his name? Anyway, Carroll was fond of not just Alice, but several girls. He carried toys, playthings, even pins to hold up their dresses when they went into the sea. He also often hosted magic shows and tea parties for them.”
“That sounds a bit suspicious.”
“Haha, yes, he did face some suspicious accusations. Even in the Victorian era, when the admiration of prepubescent girls was somewhat trendy, people thought he went too far. Well, let’s get going. It’s time for me to clock out,” Louise said, gathering her charts. Ray and I left the greenhouse. Ray gazed up at the falling snow.
“It wasn’t snowing when we came to the hospital. It feels new seeing snow again after so long.”
“Is that so? All I can think about is how much I hate driving in it.”
“You’re right about that,” Ray responded, reaching a hand toward the sky. The snowflakes twirled and danced in the weary gray sky. Between the bare fir trees in front of the greenhouse, an old swing swayed with the quiet desolation of a dying winter. It was a lonely scene, like a withered flower.
I glanced at Ray from the corner of my eye. Ray was staring blankly into the snowy sky.
“Shall we build a snowman?” I tugged at Ray’s side. Together, we built a snowman. We rolled the snow into a large ball and decorated it with branches and leaves for the face, adding horns and arms too. It was something we often did in our front yard.
After building the snowman, we had a snowball fight, playfully teasing each other. I lifted Ray onto my back and ran around excitedly—straight, backward, turning left and right with all my strength. This was what we called the “Messara Ride.” Ray, as the rider, was thoroughly enjoying it. When the snow began to fall harder, I set Ray down.
“We should head in. It’ll turn into a snowstorm soon.”
“Already?” Ray sighed in disappointment. A strand of hair that had slipped out of the hairpin brushed against Ray’s face. I couldn’t resist and kissed Ray. While kissing, I untied Ray’s scarf, slipping my hand inside the coat to caress the nape of Ray’s neck. Ray wrapped his arms around my neck.
Our tongues intertwined softly, connected as one, exchanging saliva, breath, and body heat in a deep, lingering moment. I ran my fingers through Ray’s flying strands of flaxen hair. When our lips parted, Ray looked almost melted. Ray had responded, legs giving way and trembling helplessly. It was both amusing and delightful.
“Haha, let’s save the rest for home. If we continue here, we’ll catch frostbite and die.”
I retied Ray’s scarf and hugged Ray close. Embarrassed, Ray buried their face in my chest. I held Ray tightly as we slowly walked back to the hospital building.
But there had been something bothering me since earlier. I noticed it when we left the greenhouse. It was an old man. He had been watching us from the entrance of the hospital’s main building, staring directly at Ray.
His gaze was irritating. It was rude, given that Ray clearly had a partner by their side, paying no attention to that fact.
Was he some kind of pervert? If he was hanging around a mental hospital, he had to be a serious pervert. As we reached the entrance, I stopped and glared at the old man. Despite his filthy gaze, he was dressed rather decently. He seemed like a model of the well-educated elite pervert.
Ray seemed to notice something too, glancing at the man before turning away. The old man’s eyes lingered on Ray, looking him up and down. Even in the face of my sharp, glaring stare, he didn’t avert his eyes. I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“What are you staring at, old man? Are you interested in my lover or something?”
Finally, the old man shifted his gaze toward me. His brown eyes gave off a peculiar impression. He looked at me like I was some sort of frog specimen he was studying. His gaze was like that of a miserly pawnbroker appraising a gold ring. At this point, I was more confused than angry.
I tried to unclench my fists.
“I asked you why you’re staring.”
“…I’m sorry.”
After a brief pause, the old man spoke.
“You look remarkably like my late wife when she was young. She had blonde hair too—like shining mistletoe berries. She’s gone now.”
With that, he lowered his head and walked away. Judging by his somber tone, his wife must’ve passed away long ago. While paying the hospital fees, I casually asked about the old man, but no one seemed to know much.
꙳•❅*ִ
I reached my hand out toward the sky. White snowflakes were relentlessly bruising the silent buildings, a night where the Snow Queen was sinking into a dark river, her white dress trailing behind her.
Suddenly, someone tugged me from the side.
“What are you staring at so blankly?” Messara asked. He seemed somewhat annoyed. He’d been like that since we had sex at the hotel. I almost asked why he was acting that way, but stopped myself. I stuffed my hands deeper into my coat pockets and slowly descended the stairs. My legs trembled.
After riding the sled, Messara had suddenly dragged me to the hotel, and we did it three times. It was almost like a sport. He pushed me relentlessly in all kinds of positions. I nearly blacked out several times during it. Not just my legs, but my back had been sore the entire time.
A gust of barren wind swept through my hair for a moment. My head pounded as if it were about to split.
“Hmm… Seems like you’re struggling to walk,” Messara said as he gazed at me. I quickly gathered myself.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine. Hop on,” Messara said abruptly, offering his back. I was caught off guard by his sudden action. If it were because I twisted my ankle, I would’ve hopped on without a second thought, but this was different. My legs were shaking because of what had just happened—something I found unbearably embarrassing.
“I-I can walk. Don’t worry about it.”
“Hahaha. It’s not just because of that. I’ve always wanted to do this. Now, come on. I’ll wait until you get on.”
Messara chuckled. His tone was playful, but his actions were resolute.
“But…”
I hastily looked around. It was late at night, and there were no people in sight. Finally, I gave in and climbed onto his back.
He was the kind of man who had to do what he wanted to. If I refused, he might have carried me off by force. I swallowed a silent sigh. What kind of situation was this?
At the same time, an involuntary anticipation welled up inside me. Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I couldn’t help it. What if… what if… Foolish hopes surged within me, hopes I tried and failed to suppress. These feelings were frighteningly one-sided, more inevitable than even death, which comes unannounced to take everything and leave it to decay.
I closed my eyes. Get a grip, Ray Arisa.
Don’t forget. Don’t forget the lesson you learned in Whitebirch Forest.
“Whoa!”
Messara suddenly started running, jolting me back to my senses. He spun around playfully, and the cold wind sliced past my cheeks like a blade. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud and playfully hit his shoulder.
“Hahaha. What are you doing all of a sudden?”
“What do you mean? Just having some fun. Hahaha. Are you enjoying it?”
Messara asked. His words made my eyes widen. Was I enjoying it?
I was. It was a joy I had seldom felt in my life. And that scared me. I was terrified of this man constantly introducing me to feelings I had never known before.
Why does he keep doing this to me? Why does he show me these gentle smiles, these tender gestures, and speak to me with such kindness? What’s his intention in awakening and teaching me things I’ve never experienced before?
I didn’t want to make the mistake of adding some romantic explanation to it. I didn’t want to repeat the errors of Whitebirch. I didn’t want to sink into a swamp disguised by a seductive smile.
Suddenly, I felt a wave of sadness. Inexpressible sadness.
Inexpressible…
It was a memory that surfaced when I reached out my hand as Messara and I left the hospital greenhouse. The memory was fleeting but vivid. I didn’t know why Messara and I had been on those hotel stairs, only that I had been filled with an odd mixture of awkwardness, anticipation, and sadness, all lingering like the faint smell of cigarettes from my coat.
Most of all, I was enveloped by a deep sense of despair. It was the kind of despair that had piled up, suffocating me to the point of surrender. I was terrified, but I didn’t know why or of what.
All I knew was that this memory, too, was from the early stages of my relationship with Messara. I was still wondering about his feelings for me. I was still observing him, asking myself why he acted that way toward me, if maybe he had feelings for me.
It was strange. I had thought that at 28, Ray Arisa would have been more mature in dealing with relationships than 17-year-old Ray Arisa. Yet, in these memories, I still seemed clumsy and oblivious to people’s emotions.
Why hadn’t I noticed? Messara was so openly showing his affection, even saying things like he’d always wanted to carry me. Wouldn’t it have been obvious from his gentle gaze and words?
The situation was strange, too. I was only at the stage of wondering about his feelings, yet we had already slept together. How could that be? Could that strange scene I had once dismissed as a ridiculous dream have actually happened? In that dream, I had slept with Messara without knowing his feelings, or even his name. The meaning behind that was clear.
In short, Messara and I had sex without love or any romantic relationship. It was quite shocking. Apparently, the 20-something Ray Arisa was quite messy when it came to these things. Perhaps the anger and repression of my teenage years had exploded in the wrong direction.
And there was something else. Something familiar and terrifying, fluttering just at the edge of my awareness.
I couldn’t figure out what it was. I almost wanted to confide this memory to Messara but stopped myself. It was too embarrassing to share.
I glanced at Messara, who was driving. He tapped the steering wheel lightly, then suddenly turned up the volume of the car stereo. It was a Schubert piano concerto. Messara loved classical music. His room growing up had been filled with classical CDs.
“You must really like this piece, turning up the volume like that.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Hahaha. I do like it.”
Messara glanced at me and laughed.
“That’s surprising. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be into classical music. Just by looking at you, I would’ve guessed you preferred rock or pop.”
“Me? You think I look like someone who’d be into rock music? No way. I can’t stand rock music, all those lyrics filled with complaints. Well, there’s that, but my grandmother, who I lived with for a while, was really into classical, so I couldn’t help but be influenced. What kind of music do you like?”
“Me? I like everything. Still, that’s unexpected. Most kids at least go through a rock phase at some point. Especially when they’re full of youthful energy.”
“That’s just a stereotype. It’s like assuming all teenagers have to wear ripped jeans. To be honest, I did fall for that ragged fashion for a while… Hahaha. Thinking back on it now gives me the chills. How about you, Ray? Did you have a phase where you were into rock music or crazy fashion?”
“Of course not,” I replied with a bitter smile. I hadn’t, and I couldn’t have. Every day, I was holed up in the attic, attending magic lessons, without a moment to spare for fashion.
As Messara turned left at the intersection, he suddenly spoke.
“Be careful.”
“Huh? Of what?”
“That old man from earlier. Men like him, who dress well and look respectable on the outside. He was clearly a pervert.”
“No way. He seemed fine.”
“He seems fine, which makes him even more dangerous. Especially you, Ray. Now that I think about it, you tend to attract perverts for some reason. So, be careful.”
“What?”
I raised my voice. Me, attracting perverts? Really?
Judging from Messara’s stern expression, it didn’t seem like a joke. I recalled the old man from earlier. He kept looking at me with a sad expression. Was that really a sign of some kind of perversion? The thought sent shivers down my spine.
“It’s obvious. The more sophisticated a pervert is, the sharper their appearance, and the more well-mannered they seem. Their tastes are old-fashioned, too. While average gay men enjoy dancing at techno clubs, perverts sip sherry while appreciating symphonies at a classy café. Be cautious. You can’t trust appearances.”
“Got it.”
Messara’s serious tone made me nod in agreement. At the same time, I quietly muttered to myself,
Messara sure knows a lot about perverts, huh?
The characteristics he just listed seemed to describe him perfectly… I scratched my nose in thought.
Could it be that Messara himself is a bit of a pervert?
I glanced at Messara. I couldn’t say it aloud, but wasn’t he in the same category? From the traits he had just described to his tendency to come onto me anywhere and anytime, along with the use of strange sex toys, enema play, and even mild sadistic behavior—none of it was exactly typical.
Still, Messara always satisfied me before diving into those suspicious acts, so I couldn’t really complain. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how everyone did things, despite his repeated claims. I had often doubted it, and I was sure it wasn’t true.
No, definitely not.
“Damn it!”
Messara cursed suddenly as another car cut him off. He angrily honked his horn a few times, glancing at me before quickly adjusting his expression.
“I didn’t mean to curse like that.”
He smiled apologetically, and I laughed. It was like he was trying to behave around a child.
Does Messara see me as a kid…?
Even though I was Ray Arisa, a 17-year-old with dissociative amnesia, I still had basic sense. I had already concluded that, while Messara was kind and gentle, his sexual tastes were far from ordinary. Researching on the internet and in books during hospital breaks only confirmed my suspicions.
Messara was, without a doubt, a sexual deviant.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. But I had accepted—and maybe even secretly liked—this part of him, which was probably why we continued to live together. It wasn’t like he had a thing for secretly preying on boys. We were in a legitimate relationship, after all. So why did Messara keep lying? Did he really see me as too naive?
In any case, I didn’t want to directly ask him if he was a deviant. It would be awkward for both of us. As I sneaked glances at Messara, who was glaring at the car in front of us, I scratched my nose again.
He couldn’t have been born a pervert, right? I often wondered how Messara, who had such an upright upbringing, ended up with these inclinations. The only explanation seemed to be stress from his job.
Frankly, that was my real concern. I was struggling in my own daily life due to the stress from Whitebirch, wasn’t I? I was thinking of carefully suggesting that Messara consider changing jobs or even seeking therapy.
“Hmm.”
Messara sighed irritably. We were stuck in traffic, and I had a feeling I knew what would happen next. Sure enough, Messara glanced over at me.
He’s so sly…
Messara leaned in and kissed me. His hand slid between my legs, groping my groin. After pulling away from my lips, Messara moved his face to my chest. As usual, he began undressing me. Even when we had sex in the car, Messara insisted on stripping me completely. The windows were tinted, but it still felt embarrassing.
Messara persistently licked my chest, covering it in saliva until it was drenched, biting and sucking on my nipples. I liked it when Messara played with my chest. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and moaned softly, my breathing growing shallow.
He loosened the hairpin that held my hair, letting it cascade down. His fingers brushed through it, gently tickling my skin. Embarrassing as it was, it didn’t feel bad. The sweet, lingering caresses continued, with Messara’s lips eventually trailing down between my legs. He wet my most sensitive area with his tongue, pushing me toward ecstasy. I couldn’t help but moan out loud.
“Ah… Ah. Ah, ah. Hnnngh!”
I clung to Messara as my body trembled with climax. He then sat me on his lap, and I realized what he intended to do, my face paling.
“Me-Messara, we’re in the car, driving…”
“What’s the difference? I’ve driven while getting a blowjob before. Whether it’s that or having sex, it’s all the same.”
Without missing a beat, Messara unzipped his pants.
“But still…”
“It’s fine. No one can see us. Just lean against my shoulder and relax. I’ll be quick.”
Messara nonchalantly spread my legs. His fully erect member touched the entrance, and I swallowed hard. After a brief hesitation, he firmly pushed it inside.
“Ah, ah! It hurts!”
“It’s only at first. Relax your body. Moving will only make it worse.”
Messara lifted his hips even more. I bit my lip, trying to relax. The position made the penetration much deeper, intensifying the sensation of being pierced. He embraced me, letting my head rest on his shoulder.
“It’s alright, just stay still…”
I couldn’t move. Gradually, a faint shiver of pleasure mixed with the pain. A horn blared from behind. I heard Messara gripping the steering wheel, and the car moved forward. The motion sent a subtle, distinct sensation through my entire body.
I tried to control my breathing and wrapped my arms around Messara’s neck. His penis, hard and large, filled my lower abdomen. He began to move his hips slightly, causing the car to sway ever so slightly. I opened my eyes wide.
“Don’t, don’t move.”
“Why? Does it hurt?”
“It’s not that, but…”
“Hahaha. Then relax and stay still.”
Messara fondled my chest as he spoke, clearly intent on continuing. Although I had noticed he was wearing a condom this time, it was still embarrassing. I had no choice but to close my eyes. At this point, there was no going back. Once Messara started, he never stopped until he finished.
As I settled down, Messara’s breathing grew rougher. He pushed relentlessly. The sound of our bodies slapping together grew louder. The car rocked up and down violently. The tires screeched against the road, blatantly exposing our actions. Messara’s thrusts became more intense, and I began to feel nauseous from the motion. I couldn’t hold back anymore and cried out.
Messara, seemingly nearing his own climax, ignored the blaring horns behind us and continued to thrust mercilessly. He slapped my buttocks repeatedly, urging me, “Tighten up more.” I clung to him, screaming incoherently.
“Ahhhhhhh! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“Do you like it? Is it good?”
“Ah, ah, ah, ah! Aaaah!”
The thrusting continued endlessly. It felt like my insides were on fire. His thick, hard member tore through me ruthlessly. My body felt like it was about to burst open. Messara tightened his grip on my waist, and the sensation of his penis pressing against my inner walls heightened. His rough pubic hair repeatedly grazed the entrance of my hole, making a squelching sound. The car shook wildly, and with each thrust, the overwhelming sensation sent shockwaves through my entire body, like being hit with a hammer.
I was no longer in my right mind. It felt like I was going insane. I could only scream, clutching Messara’s shoulders and trembling uncontrollably. I whimpered and moaned. As Messara’s member reached its limit, it paused for a moment, trembling inside me as he reached his climax. A wave of ecstasy washed over me, leaving my entire body shivering.
I collapsed onto Messara’s shoulder, overwhelmed. For a fleeting moment, I found myself absurdly disappointed that there was no semen inside me. When my senses returned, it was already over.
Peering over Messara’s shoulder, I saw the driver of the car behind us grinning smugly. A wave of embarrassment washed over me.
“Let’s go get a puppy today, hahaha,” Messara said, grinning mischievously as he grabbed the steering wheel without pulling out of me.
We had a late lunch at a restaurant on 84th Street, surrounded by theaters, and watched the opera
Turandot
. The beautiful set designs, costumes, and arias took my breath away. After the opera, we headed to a shopping center. I was startled, wondering if we were going shopping again, and Messara smiled.
“Today is payday.”
He dragged me around, shopping relentlessly once again. True to form, he thrust a set of scarves and gloves into my arms.
“There are already over forty scarves and gloves at home.”
“There you go again. I told you not to worry. Let’s go buy an apron.”
“An… apron?”
I stammered, blushing deeply. Messara led me to an apron specialty store called
Koala
. Among a crowd of middle-aged women, he hummed and fussed over aprons, holding them up to me and commenting on the appropriate length and color. I couldn’t raise my head. After apron shopping, we headed to a pet shop.
When I asked why he wanted a puppy, he simply replied, “You’ll be lonely by yourself.”
He truly was a kind person. If only he weren’t a sexual deviant, he’d be a perfect lover. I felt both grateful and proud. It seemed almost unfair that Daytanz couldn’t witness this. Not that he would care about us, but the thought made me chuckle.
“Which puppy do you like? Since it’s going to be winter soon, we can’t get a large breed that needs to stay outside. How about a Schnauzer, Chihuahua, or Poodle… Haha. Choose one. How about a Schnauzer? It’d look great with a pipe-shaped chew toy and a Sherlock Holmes outfit. Plus, it’d be fun to groom.”
“Hmm…”
I glanced at the puppies, trying to decide. They were all adorable, wagging their tails excitedly as they saw us.
My eyes landed on one puppy in particular. A Chihuahua with large, bright eyes and short, light brown fur stood out. Unlike the others, it was sitting alone, looking rather pitiful.
“That Chihuahua.”
“Really? I think the Schnauzer is better… But since it’s for you, let’s go with that one.”
The vet told us the puppy was female. Given the harsh winter climate, we bought her some warm clothes, including a dress, a scarf, and a coat, along with plenty of supplies. On the way home, we discussed names for the puppy. Messara wanted
Wendy
, while I preferred
Diana
.
“Diana? That sounds way too fancy for a dog. Dog names should be something like Wendy, Tinkerbell, Happy, Bob, or Bobo, don’t you think?”
“Still, I’d like to call her Diana.”
“Alright, it’s your dog, after all.”
Messara shrugged as he turned the steering wheel. I pressed my nose against Diana’s small, black nose, lost in thought.
Diana… the goddess of the moon and the forest.
The moon and the forest are inseparable from magic. Well, I suppose this is just a lingering attachment to the remnants of old sorcery… I chuckled at the thought but then froze.
Through the car window, the Viola Cathedral came into view. I had no desire to see it, yet the car couldn’t move due to traffic. A sudden wave of melancholy washed over me.
“Viola Cathedral…” Messara muttered to himself.
“Oh, by the way, I bought a fine replica today,” he said out of the blue.
“A replica?”
“Yes, of a painting called
Ophelia
by some artist named Millet. It’s so intricately replicated that it’s almost indistinguishable from the original. It’s in the trunk; we can take a look when we get home.”
“Wow, I can’t wait to see it.”
“It’ll look quite nice hanging in the living room. Ah, but speaking of which—”
“Yes?” I tilted my head in curiosity. Messara tapped the steering wheel lightly, glancing down at my thigh. Suddenly, I noticed a strange smell. My thigh started to feel wet. Could it be…? My eyes widened.
To our dismay, Diana was peeing on my lap, her little rear clenched as even a bit of brown poop slipped out. Messara and I both screamed at the same time, frantically searching for tissues and a plastic bag.
Beautiful…
I found myself staring blankly at
Ophelia
. The more I looked at the painting, the more mesmerizing it became. When Messara retrieved the picture from the trunk, I almost lost my breath. It was as if a veiled beauty in the darkness had suddenly revealed herself—unexpected and radiant.
Even though it was a replica, it seemed like it would be quite expensive. Messara, however, explained he got it for a good price. The painting was hung above the fireplace, and Messara handed me a cup of tea.
“Surprising. I didn’t think Ray would be so taken by this painting.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful, yes, but it’s a painting of a dead woman.”
Messara shrugged as he sipped his tea. I tilted my cup, replying, “But it’s just a painting, isn’t it?”
“It’s not like it’s a real corpse. Or… is it that you dislike themes like this, Messara? Are you uncomfortable with art that deals with death or corpses?”
Messara smiled as he placed his cup down.
“No, that’s not it. If anything, I’m hardly in a position to judge necrophilia.”
“Position? What do you mean?”
“Nothing important.” Messara chuckled, though his laughter carried an eerie undertone. Whenever he laughed like that, he exuded an unsettling aura—gentle but somehow twisted.
Messara wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. As I felt the layers of my clothing slip off one by one, I closed my eyes. A night with both Ophelia and Diana…
Suddenly, I wondered if it was okay to be this happy. Just a month ago, wasn’t I crushed by the cold weight of loneliness and poverty? Even in the midst of overwhelming happiness, a wave of anxiety crept in.
I stared at the sapphire ring on my left ring finger. It shimmered a deep, oceanic blue, a gift from Messara when we had matching rings made as a symbol of our eternal love. He had said it was to show how much we loved each other, hoping we’d be together forever.
Was it the ring? Was it why this sense of unease kept growing?
That day was similar to this one. Snow was softly falling on a winter day when a letter arrived for Whitebirch. It was a clumsy proposal from the king, written in a hand that overused common phrases.
“No, no, I refuse! To be a queen? Knowing about the customs of sacrifice, how could you even think of this! I’d rather marry a commoner!” Whitebirch’s mother shouted at her father as he walked out of the room.
Her mother wept quietly for a while before looking at Whitebirch with sad eyes. She stroked her daughter’s cheek several times before whispering, “You poor thing. Sleep now. The night is long.”
After her mother left the room, Whitebirch sat up and opened the letter from the king. She had secretly learned to read and write by watching over her father’s shoulder from an early age. The king’s writing was terrible—he couldn’t even spell his own name properly. Whitebirch thought to herself,
I suppose I’ll have to teach him how to write if I become queen
and fell asleep with that thought.
A month later, Whitebirch entered a grand cathedral. For the first time, she met the king. That day, for the first and last time, she wore a luxurious dress with a train that trailed for several meters behind her. The coat of sable fur she wore was grand and beautiful, but it was so heavy that it only brought her pain.
The boy king gave her no more than a passing glance. Whitebirch, too, focused on the grand cathedral and the bishops and nobles in their fine clothes rather than him. Everything was beautiful and elegant, but there was something odd about it all. Everyone wore the same hollow expression, like an echo in an empty chamber.
The bishop asked the young couple if they would vow eternal love to each other. The king answered lazily, “Yes.” Then he slipped a blue sapphire ring onto Whitebirch’s finger.
As the symbol of eternal love was clasped onto her finger like a shackle, Whitebirch realized the truth. The king was lying. The people gathered to bless them were executioners, and this grand, solemn cathedral was nothing more than a cold altar of power…
Eternal love…
Messara lifted a wine glass from beside the bathtub. On his left ring finger, a sapphire ring sparkled brightly. His lemon-colored hair floated gently on the still surface of the bathwater, scattering like the flowers that surrounded Ophelia in the stream. I gazed blankly, lost in thought.
Eternal love. Could it truly exist?
I wanted to believe it could. At least, I hoped it would last for Messara and me. If it couldn’t, then at the very least, I wished that at the end, we would have no regrets. That one day, after many years had passed, we could look back on the time we shared with a soft, gentle smile.
In truth, I was far happier now than I had ever been with Whitebirch. Rather than being in a high and vast cathedral like an empty conch shell, dressed in layers of pretentiousness, spitting false vows with red-painted lips like Whitebirch, living simply as I did now was far better by tens of thousands of times.
Still, when I thought of Messara eventually leaving, there was an ache in one corner of my heart. The reason I kept thinking about separation must have been because of Whitebirch. Whitebirch had experienced the end of love in the worst possible way.
I didn’t know. If there had been any record proving Daytanz thought of Whitebirch even a little, would I be so doubtful about love? From Whitebirch and Daytanz, I had only learned one lesson: Love is a finite existence, like a flower that blooms and withers in an instant. I closed my eyes.
Let’s just focus on the present…
“What are you thinking about so deeply?”
Messara wrapped me in an embrace as he spoke. I snapped out of my thoughts.
“Nothing much.”
“Hmm. Really? You look tired.”
“Well, a little.”
I mumbled vaguely. Messara tilted his head curiously, then rested his chin on my shoulder with a pleased expression. His gestures were gentle and affectionate. I blinked.
Was I getting ahead of myself?
To be honest, the downfall of Whitebirch and Daytanz was influenced by their special status as king and queen and the complicated times. But we were just ordinary citizens. Although Messara had some perverse desires, I had a feeling our relationship would last quite a while. How many couples spend their whole lives together?
Perhaps it was a presumptuous assumption, but Messara and I fit well together. Energetic and vigorous, Messara seemed to find stability in my quietness. And I, being melancholic, liked the liveliness Messara brought. We complemented each other’s weaknesses as a couple.
Maybe, just maybe… we could become a couple that lasts a lifetime. When that thought crossed my mind, I suddenly felt embarrassed. I bowed my head, then paused.
What was this…
A memory I recalled as I stepped out of the greenhouse flickered before my eyes. A strange unease, akin to a shiver, ran down my neck. Floating on the surface of the bathtub water in front of me was lemon-colored hair. My throat felt tight.
That hair…
Finally, I realized. When that memory surfaced, the identity of the terrifying yet familiar ‘something’ became clear. It was the hair. In that memory, swirling violently amidst snowflakes was hair flying wildly in the wind.
In that memory, my hair wasn’t lemon-colored.
It was ebony black.
꙳•❅*ִ
I paused as I entered Altonen’s office. Damn Karl was sitting on the sofa.
“What brings you here?”
“Haha! What brings me? I just stopped by to see Altonen. He stepped out for a moment to go to the restroom. But what luck that Chief should walk in… Haha, I’m glad to see you. Your presence seems especially strong today.”
What a disgustingly long reply to a simple question out of courtesy. I tried to relax my grip on the whip in my hand. Karl gestured toward the seat across from him with his eyes.
“Why don’t you sit down too, Chief?”
“No, thanks. If you have no business, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
“Oh, come now. No need to be so cold. I’ve nothing more to say. By the way, did you like the gift I sent? It was a painting my father cherished, so I was curious about your reaction.”
Altonen was probably taking a dump. He must have constipation.
“Yes, thank you for the gift.”
“Is that so? I’m glad to hear it.”
Karl leaned back in his chair, smiling contentedly. For some reason, today his outfit looked especially annoying. He was wearing a loose, sky-blue shirt with a few buttons undone, exposing his tight chest muscles. He also had on gray silk pants that clung tightly to his hips.
If he were a smooth, small-framed guy, I might not have minded, but seeing his bulging biceps and triceps wrapped in that outfit made my eyes burn. On top of that, a strand of his overly-gelled brown hair had fallen down his forehead, and the air reeked of cologne. I could only hope Altonen would finish his business quickly and rescue me.
Karl gave me a once-over from head to toe.
“I’ve always thought so, but that mask and uniform coat of yours are really something. I heard Lord Wolfscott had it custom-made for you? It’s quite charismatic.”
Was he some kind of pervert? How could anyone find this cursed mask and this wretched coat attractive? I stayed silent. Karl made a strange humming sound.
“Chief, your silence is a little awkward. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the painting.”
I seriously considered texting Leopard and ordering him to rush into the bathroom and make Altonen take a laxative.
“Hmph…”
Karl made that nasal sound again, crossing his legs as he lazily rested his head on the edge of the sofa, gazing at me with half-lidded eyes. It was unnervingly sensual. His behavior was like a bottom in a gay bar trying to seduce a top with overly exaggerated pheromones.
…This guy, no way.
“Mmm…”
Once again, Karl let out a nasal hum, crossing his legs as he gave me a languid look. That was the moment when my suspicions were confirmed. Suddenly, laughter welled up inside me. I was about to lose it. I was on the verge of bursting into hysterics. Ha ha ha? What on earth was this high-and-mighty noble doing?
Sideburns,
huh
.I smirked coldly. The bastard had figured out that we were busy sharpening our knives behind his back. But to resort to this—selling his body in desperation—what a pathetic move. It was incomprehensibly rash. If I were straight, how would he bear the humiliation of such an embarrassing act?
Or maybe he thought his charms would work even on a straight guy. How much of a fool must he think I am to act like this? To think he could turn me on with nothing but a pair of silk pants was downright insulting. If Altonen didn’t return within the next minute, I swore I’d send Leopard to drag him out of the bathroom.
“Oh, Snake. When did you get here?”
Altonen entered the room. If he had been just 15 seconds later, he would have experienced Leopard’s well-honed enema skills, but today he narrowly saved his rear. Karl, unable to hide his disappointment, waved and said, “Hey.”
“I have work to do. Vardi, please leave,” I said. Karl stood up and, as he passed by, gave me a coy smile.
“Such a shame. I really wanted to hear your thoughts on the painting. Let’s talk at length next time. Call me if you get a chance.”
With that, he left behind a cloud of his torturous cologne. As soon as he was gone, I lashed the floor with my whip. I had Altonen strip and whipped him thoroughly with a leather whip. I even pulled candles from the chandelier to give him a proper punishment. It had been a while since we had a formal SM play session.
Altonen’s throat gurgled like a buffalo being chased by a cowboy. He confessed that while talking to Karl on the phone earlier that morning, he had accidentally mentioned today’s schedule. He hadn’t expected Karl to show up right at the agreed meeting time.
“I thought Karl’s outfit looked odd, especially for someone with a fiancée. I wondered, ‘Surely not…?’ But then Karl made me some honey tea as a gesture of goodwill. A minute after drinking it, I had an urgent need to rush to the bathroom. I’ll be more careful in the future. I won’t let Karl into my office again, so please stop dripping wax on me!” he pleaded. It was an unexpected comedy act. Annoying.
“Laxatives! Silk pants!” Copperhead and Leopard burst into laughter. They keeled over, clutching their sides, right in front of me, who hadn’t yet cooled off. They banged on the desk and rolled around laughing.
“Haha, Chief, you’re so popular! First, that hairy guy was drooling over you, and now it’s the fancy aristocrat! Maybe you should have just gone for it this time—at least Karl’s not hairy,” Leopard joked in his typical fashion. Copperhead, wiping tears from his eyes, added, “Wow, Karl must be really confident in his charm! He thought he could win over our picky Chief in just a few minutes.”
“Picky? If only they knew how high my standards are,” Leopard snickered.
At that point, I seriously considered firing them. Then my phone buzzed. Fighting back my irritation, I answered, “Yeah? What is it?”
— Is this Four Messara?
An elderly voice asked. Only a few people had my number, and even fewer knew my real name. The only one who ever used it when calling was Ray. My anger quickly subsided.
“Who is this?”
— You’re Ray Arisa’s roommate, correct?
Suddenly, I remembered Officer Olz. I pulled out a cigarette, replying, “Go on.”
The person chuckled softly.
— Your way of speaking is quite unique. Ah, I’m Velma Burkhardt, attorney for Mr. Stig Lee. I apologize for contacting you out of the blue, but I got your number through the doctor in charge of Ray Arisa’s hospital.
I froze mid-motion, the unsettling possibility dawning on me: could Ray have been kidnapped by enemies who’d uncovered my identity?
“Who the hell is Stig Lee? And how did you get my number? What’s your business with me?”
My voice rose sharply. Leopard and Copperhead immediately stopped laughing. The caller paused briefly, then apologized.
What I heard next left me stunned.
— Mr. Stig Lee believes that Ray Arisa could be his long-lost son, and he’d like to confirm it with a DNA test. If it’s not too much trouble, he’d like to meet with you today. Would you be available?
I couldn’t dismiss the possibility of a trap, so I demanded that I choose the time and place. I also contacted the hospital to check on Ray, who was safe and sound, busy painting. Even so, I couldn’t shake the unease, so I asked Leopard to keep Ray company until I returned. Without hesitation, Leopard took off like the wind. It was all so damn frustrating.
I checked the social security network to look up Stig Lee’s information. He was clean—a well-known author and medical professor. It added up. Knowing that Ray was writing a book and had a strong grasp of medical knowledge only gave me the chills.
Lee did indeed have a missing youngest son, just as Ray had mentioned being abandoned at age seven, which matched the timing. I took a long drag of my cigarette and dispatched a team to Lee’s house. If things got sketchy, I was ready to abduct his family in retaliation. I couldn’t afford to be careless, though my instincts told me Lee was Ray’s father. The setup was too clumsy for a trap, and the circumstances lined up far too well.
The biggest mystery was how Lee had found Ray. That, too, was soon solved. His wife, the one who had caused a scene at the charity dinner, was the overweight woman who had attacked Ray. After being released from Guiger, she must have tracked Ray down to his hospital and then relayed the information to her husband. I moved the cursor over a photo of Lee.
That old man. He was the same person who had been staring at Ray and me with that creepy look while we were playing in the snow. What had he said back then?
— You remind me so much of my wife when she was young. She also had golden hair like mistletoe, shining like the fruit of the winter.
I moved the cursor to drag the name of the missing son marked in the file:
Loranthus
.
Just as I was leaning back in my chair, the phone buzzed again. It was Leopard, calling to report that Ray and he were having a great time at the arboretum near the hospital. Apparently, Ray had overheard someone mention my name and was now gleefully chanting “Four, Four, Foooour,” which was infuriating.
“Then why don’t you try telling me your name for a change?”
— Me? Ilex Sparte. Take your time getting here. Haha.
Ilex, huh? Named after
Ilex cornuta
, the Chinese holly? In this kingdom, where even the top ministers were named after plants like Lotus, Japonica, and Orchis, it wasn’t an odd name. But considering the guy’s massive, muscular frame, it was amusing to think he’d been named after a Christmas tree holly. Somehow, it went well with mistletoe.
At any rate, this situation highlighted the need for even tighter security around my team members’ personal information. After finishing two more cigarettes, I put on my coat. Copperhead would be accompanying me to the meeting place. It was a confrontation I couldn’t avoid. I was determined to scrutinize the face of the man who had left Ray to rot on a mountainside among the corpses.
When I entered the agreed-upon location, Lee rose from his seat. Copperhead, who had arrived earlier, was seated nearby, keeping an eye on things.
Lee extended his hand toward me. I shook my head and said, “Sit down,” before taking my seat. Lee hesitated for a moment before awkwardly sitting down.
I tapped the armrest of the chair. There were a few questions I had between Ray and Lee.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Stig Lee. According to the hospital records, you’re listed as Arisa’s guardian, so I reached out to you.”
“I’m not a guardian. We haven’t even registered our partnership with Pax yet, so I’m just a cohabitant for now.”
“Oh, I see. Then when will you register…”
“That’s irrelevant to today’s matter. Let’s get to the point. I heard you believe that my cohabitant is your missing son and that you want a paternity test.”
“…Yes, that’s correct.”
“Then why are you conveying your opinions through me instead of talking to my cohabitant directly? A sudden appearance from a father should be quite an emotional moment for my cohabitant, who grew up as an orphan, don’t you think?”
At my blunt question, Lee’s face went pale. I smiled coldly. Missing, huh. If you’d really lost your child by accident, wouldn’t you have already rushed to Ray, screaming about how he’s your son?
Lee shifted his gaze nervously and picked up his coffee cup. I relaxed my fist and continued speaking.
“Sorry, but I don’t think Mr. Lee is my cohabitant’s father.”
“Excuse me? Why do you think that?”
Lee hastily put down his coffee cup. I leisurely rested my arm on the chair’s armrest, taking my time. I decided to quickly satisfy my curiosity and end this. I pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and said,
“Haha. What other reason would there be? For one, they don’t even resemble each other… hmm. And about this ‘missing’ story you mentioned—according to my cohabitant, he was abandoned by his parents. Given that they abandoned him on a mountainside littered with decomposing bodies in the dead of winter, the reason seems obvious enough.”
“……”
“Maybe they were desperately poor and had no choice but to abandon him. But isn’t Mr. Lee a renowned figure in society? Ah, and to top it off, my cohabitant didn’t even recognize you in person. I might add, my partner has an exceptional memory. Even if it’s been 21 years, there’s no way he wouldn’t recognize his parents’ faces.”
“An exceptional memory, you say…”
Lee smiled bitterly. I paused while flicking off the ash from my cigarette.
I suddenly realized the contradiction in my words. Yes, Ray did have an exceptional memory. He had an IQ so high that even the attending physician was amazed. And at seven years old, he should have remembered quite a lot.
“Please take a look at this.”
Lee pulled out an album and handed it to me. I glared at him briefly before flipping through the album. I had anticipated this when he pulled out the album, but it was still surprising. In the photos, young Ray’s blue eyes were glowing vacantly. His long flaxen hair remained the same. But there was something strange.
I stared intently at the woman holding Ray. She appeared to be his mother, but she was completely different from the hulking pro-wrestler I’d seen. Lee’s appearance was also vastly different. He wasn’t the withered cucumber sitting before me. Back then, he looked like a smart and handsome man.
I looked back and forth between Lee and the photo. The suspicion was so absurd that I wondered if the couple had undergone joint plastic surgery out of fear of Ray’s retribution. If the handsome man in the photo was indeed the same person as this shriveled cucumber, it made sense that Ray hadn’t recognized him up close. No one would.
With a contorted face, Lee spoke.
“It’s understandable that you’d be skeptical, but the people in those photos are indeed my wife and me. Regardless, there’s no need for a paternity test. Messara mentioned something that only our child would know. Yes, it’s true. We abandoned our child on a mountainside full of corpses waiting for temporary burial. My wife and I.”
I extinguished my cigarette and lit another. I felt dirty just listening. Still, judging by how deeply his face had wrinkled, it seemed he’d suffered mentally over the past 21 years. It cooled my anger a little.
“Not long after leaving the child and heading home, we realized the enormity of what we’d done. When we went back, the child was gone. In just 30 minutes. There’s no way the child, full of sleeping pills, could have escaped the mountain on his own… we lived thinking a wild animal had taken him. The pain was unbearable.”
I paused again while flicking the ash from my cigarette.
Sleeping pills…?
This was something Ray had never mentioned to me. Something clicked sharply in the back of my mind. I clenched my fists, struggling to suppress the urge to snap Lee’s neck right then and there.
“I wonder what your reason was for abandoning the child.”
“…If you want a reason, the child knows it well. He was always a child who could see through everything.”
See through everything, huh.
“Anyway, you said you wanted to meet my cohabitant, right? There’s a process for everything. Before you meet him, shouldn’t you first face legal consequences?”
I spoke in a deliberately mocking tone.
Lee bowed his head in silence.
“Answer me. Waiting is getting tedious.”
I urged him, glaring.
But still, Lee remained silent.
As I stared at him for a long time, murderous thoughts surged again. I felt like I was going to explode from anger.
Ray knew where his parents were. Yet he had never sought them out, not even once. Even while enduring extreme poverty, he never asked for help. What did that mean?
It was pure hatred. Fierce hatred toward the parents who had abandoned him.